


Sweet

by Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Aphrodisiacs, Chocolate, Dirty Talk, Drugs Made Them Do It, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kinktober 2019, Masturbation, Meddling Poe, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Sex and Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 22:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_So_Reylo/pseuds/Ever-so-reylo
Summary: She is gone. And Ben is gone, too. Because he doesn’t like chocolate, or sweets, or anything, but he does like Rey, and he thinks that if he could put his lips to her, to the little crevices of her body, find the slopes and the nooks in her flesh, she would probably taste a little bit like the chocolate still in his mouth. Sweet. And tart. And full. She would be creamy and wet and he’d dip his tongue in her until she was sticky and dripping and—Or: Ben, and Rey, and a box of chocolates.For Kinktober 2019 (Aphrodisiacs)





	Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the seventh day of Kinktober: Aphrodisiacs 😍  
Many many thanks to YoursTrulyCommanderShepard and KyloTrashForever for the beta!  
  
See end notes for TW (+ spoilers)

The box of chocolates is already in his office when Ben gets to work. Quite predictably, so is Rey: bent over, elbows on his desk, mouth humming softly as she studies the contents of the box. She doesn’t even have the grace to startle when he clears his throat, nor does she look up when he steps in to deposit his briefcase in his chair. It’s slightly annoying, because it means that he won’t get brownie points for not staring at her ass in those jeans, which is more than a little frustrating. Staring is all he has, after all.

“Gremlin,” he salutes her, unable to keep the fondness from his tone.

“Someone delivered this a few minutes ago, Bazine signed the receipt.” She smiles, but continues scanning the pralines with deep concentration. “It’s technically for you. But it’s not like you eat chocolate, right? Or food. Also, good morning.” 

Her smile turns into a grin, and she’s finally meeting his eyes, batting her eyelashes in a flirtatious way he knows she doesn’t really mean. And yet, sometimes, when Rey looks at him like that, Ben wonders if maybe Poe and Phasma and Hux and… and everyone else, really—he wonders if they are right. If she really is as interested in him as he is in her, if she wouldn’t balk at the idea of getting drinks with him, if she’d let him buy her lunch at that sushi place down the street in exchange for a handful of minutes spent in her company. But then Ben remembers _who_ he is, and _how_ he is, and _why_ he is, and any temptation to ask her out dissolves like a pearl in vinegar. 

“You brat.”

“Oh, come on, Ben.” She reaches for a piece of white chocolate drizzled with pink frosting, but changes her mind before picking it up. “Stuff that tastes good is wasted on you. Anything more than a feeding tube is, really.”

“Hm.” She’s not wrong. “I’m surprised you’re alone. Where are the other office vultures?”

“Too scared of you to steal your food.” Rey rolls her eyes. “Seriously, people need to learn to fight for what really matters.”

“Chocolate?”

“Precisely.” She selects a pecan cluster and straightens up. “Anyway. Gotta go do some work. You know how testy our corporate overlords get otherwise.”

“Bring the box with you.”

Her eyes widen. “What? The entire box?”

“Sure. You can share it with the others.”

“You don’t want any?” 

“Nope.”

“Aww.” She frowns and leans her hip against the desk. “How will you meet your recommended daily chocolate intake?”

He huffs a laugh. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Mmm. Tell you what.” She takes a bite of her praline, all luscious lips and flushed, happy cheekbones and—no one, _no one_ does happy quite like Rey. Lush. Seizing. There is something deeply sensual and erotic about her every instant, like she is determined to clutch life and squeeze every drop of pleasure out, feast on it until her belly and heart are overflowing. If she let him, Ben would feast on _her_. Gorge himself until nothing was left. “I’ll leave the box here and come visit you when I want one.” She wets her lips. “If that’s okay?”

His heart skips a beat. Yes, it’s okay. No, it doesn’t mean anything. “Suit yourself.”

“Deal, then.“ She plucks a piece of caramel brittle from the box and winks at him before leaving.

This time, Ben lets himself look at her ass.

…

She is back twenty-five minutes later for a small square full of peanut butter (Ben pretends to ignore her and continues to type an email) and then forty minutes after that (something with dark chocolate). Ben is on the phone with the Starkiller project manager, but he shakes his head in mock disapproval as she stuffs her face with a bite that is too large for her mouth. Rey giggles, but makes a point of chewing through the entire piece right in front of him, waiting to swallow before leaving his office. Ben has to ask the project manager to repeat what he just said for the third time and quickly adjusts himself under his desk.

Then, she is back. Again. Right during lunch break. While Ben is in the process of typing ‘per my last email,’ as he often does in his daily correspondence with the entire population of this office.

(Except for Rey. Whatever. He’s got it bad.)

“Hey,” she says, and instead of grabbing another piece of chocolate and leaving she walks around his desk and plants her ass right next to his keyboard. “Hey,” she repeats. Her cheeks are slightly flushed. Her pupils dilated. Ben gapes at her, at her odd little smile, at the way she is dangling her feet like some twelve year old, except that—she really does not look twelve. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m…” What? And—have they ever been this close before? No. No, he would remember. “Working.”

“Right. Of course. When are you not.” She rolls her eyes and leans over to pluck a praline out of the box, which gives him a split-millisecond glimpse of her cleavage. Ben swallows noisily. “Have you had any?”

He shakes his head. He used to be able to speak. Once. Before he could see the creamy skin of her thigh from the frayed rips in her jeans. He is pretty sure that they’re not dress code compliant. He should report her to HR. He should take them off of her and fuck her gently in all her holes—

Wait. What?

“You should try one. They’re great.“ She sinks her teeth in the chocolate, blissfully unaware of how perverted Ben’s thoughts are. Though she does look flushed. Is she coming down with a cold? Ben should look into soups and orange juice. Put some of each in the office fridge in the break room, and then guard it so that someone in this office full of jackals doesn’t steal it before Rey can get to it. “Here—” She picks up a dark piece of chocolate and holds it to him. “Try this one.”

Ben doesn’t like chocolate. Or sweets. Or… anything. He doesn’t like anything, so he pulls back a little. “No, thank you.”

“Oh, come on. Just one. You’ll still have an eight pack, even if you have a treat for once in your life.”

He opens his mouth to say that no, he doesn’t have an eight pack anyway, but it’s the wrong thing to do. Too quick to be stopped, Rey slips the piece of chocolate between his lips, and then pushes the fleshy part of her thumb against them to keep them closed.

Ben is too—Astonished? Discomposed? Ruined?

_Dead_? 

He can’t think for a minute, and it’s a crucial one: while Rey keeps holding his gaze, the chocolate begins to melt on his tongue, and there’s nothing he can do at that point. He has to suck on it, has to press it against his palate, and as he does Rey’s thumb slides to his bottom lip, traces it for a brief minute, and then falls back into her lap. She stares at it for an instant, blinking in a lost, muddled way, and when she looks up it’s as if she has collected herself after a moment of absence.

She giggles, low and raspy. “Well? Is it good?”

The sweetness floods Ben’s mouth, and it would be nauseating and way too much, except that there is a bitter aftertaste to it that saves it from being sickening. Also, his lower lip is still tingling. The exact spot where she…

“Yes,” he manages. It’s the truth. Another truth: he is rock-hard under his desk.

“See?” She bites into her lower lip. “You should let yourself try new things more often.” She turns to choose a piece for herself—something with purple in it, probably berries—and simultaneously selects one for him. This time, when she pushes it against his mouth, he parts his lips automatically. “Have another.”

A few weeks ago, one of Ben’s clients dragged him to a strip club to celebrate who knows what deal, and he had no choice but to sit there and stare at glittery breasts and gyrating hips. It hadn’t affected him _at all_. How it is possible that he’s breaking a sweat just by holding Rey’s eyes as they both chew on mediocre chocolate, he has no clue. And yet here they are: Ben gripping the armrests of his chair as her throat moves softly and swallows the last of it, as her tongue licks a crumb from the corner of her mouth, something he could probably help her with—

“Oh, Rey. Here you are.” Poe steps inside Ben’s office and leans against the doorframe, looking curiously between Ben and Rey. His eyes are twinkling, smiling ever so slightly. “I wanted to run something by you. But if you’re busy…”

“Oh. No.” She gives Ben one glance that might be regretful or just… not, and hops down from his desk. She steals a tissue from the box next to his monitor to wipe the corner of her mouth—he guesses she doesn’t need his help after all—and then she is gone.

She is gone. And Ben is _gone_, too. Because he doesn’t like chocolate, or sweets, or _anything_, but he does like Rey, and he thinks that if he could put his lips to her, to the little crevices of her body, find the slopes and the nooks in her flesh, she would probably taste a little bit like the chocolate still in his mouth. Sweet. And tart. And full. She would be creamy and wet and he’d dip his tongue in her until she was sticky and dripping and—

He can barely lock his door—in fact, he almost collapses against it as soon as it’s closed, his back flush against the hardwood as he tears at the fly of his slacks. He strokes himself with both hands, one pulling at his cock and the other cupped around the head, and it’s a matter of seconds. Three, four pumps. His balls are tight and aching and his orgasm barrels through him, a crashing wave of release that has him struggling to breathe. 

It takes him longer to recover than to come. Not quite steady, he unlocks the door and stumbles to his desk, using the tissue Rey left behind to wipe his hand. 

…

When he comes back from a meeting with Hux and Phasma, she is sitting cross-legged in his chair, a vague tilt to her lips as she stares at the open box of chocolates with glassy eyes. There’s only a handful left, of who knows how many to begin with.

“You’ve had some, haven’t you?” she asks, a touch smugly.

He has. He has had—god, three? More chocolate in the past two hours than in the last twenty years. He just can’t stop thinking that it tastes exactly like Rey’s cunt would. That if he could pin her to his desk and tie her there, legs spread open under his palms, her little hole would be just as sweet and tangy.

“Are you okay?” he asks, because she’s even more flushed now. She has taken off the cardigan she was wearing earlier, and her tank top shows her toned, slim arms. He could bite into them, couldn’t he? He could leave a mark. Chew on her little biceps.

“Yes. Hot, though. It’s weirdly hot today, right?”

It is. She is right. Even though he checked AccuWeather this morning and it wasn’t supposed to be, even though in the conference room both Phasma and Hux seemed to be shivering while Ben was sweating—she is absolutely right. Staring at her, Ben loosens his tie and takes off his jacket, rolling his shirt sleeves up his forearms. “Yes.”

“I meant to ask,” she slurs—well, not quite _slurs_, but she doesn’t usually talk like this. Low and throaty and liquid. Does she? Ben is confused. “Who was the chocolate from?” She selects another little piece. Light brown, with small bumps. Maybe nuts. 

Ben blinks. And then blinks some more. “Oh.” More blinking. It really _is_ hot today. “I don’t know.” He takes off his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt.

“You don’t know?” Rey chuckles a little drunkenly. There is something oddly attractive about a woman with her mouth full. Well—about Rey. About Rey eating. About Rey’s mouth. Ben has been semi-hard all day—he blames her, since she is directly responsible for one hundred percent of his erections anyway, and the image of her chewing, the blissful expression when she tastes, the slight gulp of her throat as she swallows it all down—yes okay, fine. Fine. He’s been thinking about her swallowing his come. _Fine_. “Someone just drops this much chocolate on your desk for no reason and you don’t even wonder why? This, sir, is chocolate privilege.”

He rolls his jaw. “I assumed it was a birthday present from someone.”

“What?” Her eyes widen and she straightens in his chair, and it only underscores how—off? Idle? Loose maybe, yes, loose, how loose she has been so far. “It’s your _birthday_?” 

He just shrugs.

“Oh my god. I had no idea. I didn’t get you anything.”

He shrugs again. It’s not as if he expected her to. Or anyone else. The chocolates are an anomaly. “You’re helping me get rid of this crap.” _Also, you’re making my skin boil. And my cock very, very stiff, so if you—_

“I’m going now.” She springs up from his chair—not before grabbing two pieces of candy, presumably for the road—and brushes past him, suddenly full of energy again. “I’ll find you the perfect birthday present. Do not leave before I return!” 

Ben looks up at the clock above his desk. It’s five fifty-three p.m.—he wouldn’t mind going home. Taking a cold shower. Letting his cock out of these chafing pants and jerking off one or three more times while looking at Rey’s grainy picture on the company website. Instead he sighs and sits in his chair, tracing her residual warmth on the soft faux-leather. 

He eats his chocolate, but makes sure to leave the last piece for her.

…

She comes back at five to seven, and her eyes are stars. Liquid and lucid and shining bright, so bright, so beautiful that he can’t stop staring at them, not even to look at the points of her perky little tits visible under her top, not even to make sure that after the last time he jerked off (twenty minutes ago) he remembered to zip his pants closed.

“Okay, hear me out.” She comes in and closes the door, leaning against it. He can see her chest, her slight shoulders lifting up and down with her breathing. It’s too fast. Did she run here? “I went downstairs. And looked for presents. For you.”

The way she says you—you, you, you, _you_—makes him ready to come all over again. Ben—he can’t quite remember the last time he was this horny. Maybe _he_ is coming down with the flu. His brain is wading through syrup, and the air is as hot as melted chocolate. Smells like it, too. Like Rey and chocolate and Rey and chocolate and Rey and—

“But there’s only food places. Coffee shops. And you already have food.” She laughs like she just said something hilarious and witty, and then lets herself slowly slide down the door, until she is sitting on the floor. “Though _I_ ate it, for the most part.” She closes her eyes and lets her head fall against the door.

“Are you okay?” Ben stands and walks to her, hoping she won’t notice his erection. She’d have to be blind, given how it’s tenting his slacks, but. “Rey?”

She opens her eyes. “Oh, good. You’re here.” Her smile is loopy. “Perfect. So you see, I was thinking—” she straightens and rearranges a little, still on the floor but now on her knees in front of him “—that maybe I can _make_ you a present.”

He stares down at her. God, she’s so pretty. Pretty. Not like a sunset or a puppy—pretty in a more fuckable sort of way. I’d-like-to-come-between-her-asscheeks pretty. “Make it… like art? Like macaroni art?”

She dissolves in laughter. “No. No, I can’t do art. Ben, I’m an environmental engineer.”

“Oh.” Right. Is she noticing his erection? She must be. But why is he still standing there. “Then… You’re making a dam, then?” 

“A dam for what? Do you have a lake?”

“Um. No. I don’t?”

“A river?”

“No?”

“No dam, then.”

No dam. Good. “Then… what?”

“Hear me out,” she repeats. She _is_ slurring her words now. Like she’s intoxicated. Which is an interesting development, because Ben _feels_ intoxicated, too. Addled. “I thought I would do this.”

_This, _apparently, is leaning forward and tenderly rubbing her cheek against his hard cock through the cotton of his slacks. It’s pressing her nose along its length and making a soft, beautiful sound, and then using her hands to unzip him and peel down the layers and—

Yes. Yes, yes, _yes_.

Except that: _no_. This is weird, they are not usually this close. It doesn’t make sense. 

“Rey.” He cups her nape. He’s going to pull her head away. Any moment now.

“May I suck your cock, please? Since it’s your birthday? And since I’ve been dreaming of it for, I don’t even know. Ten years?”

They haven’t known each other for ten years. And this—he knows distantly that this is not a thing they do. But her eyes are hazy and black, and Ben is nodding that yes, yes she may, and she is starting from his balls, gentle licks that swirl on his sack before moving up to suck at the head.

“_Fucking_—Rey.”

She smiles. But she also buries her face between his legs, lightly biting his shaft and making him buck into her mouth like all she wants is to be his personal hole, and at some point Ben stops being able to think that this is weird and just focuses on holding in the pleasure. 

“Good girl.” He hears himself say it and some part deep inside him, some part that is not drowning in chocolate, is _horrified_. But he is hornier than he’s ever been, and so slick from both him and her, and sometimes—sometimes she just looks up at him without even sucking, just holding him in her mouth, warm and wet and loose, like all she wants is to feel his cock for a minute. Give him her welcome, her protection, and a moment of rest. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He strokes her cheekbones and pushes deeper inside. He is too big, or maybe her mouth and hand are too small. But it’s so nice to use his thumb to trace the impression of his cock through the skin of her cheek. She is really trying very hard, his good girl. “You just want to make me come, don’t you?” He nudges her throat with his cock, and she is _nodding_ with her eyes. Asking, _please_. “All those depraved things that I can’t get out of my head. You’ll let me do them, won’t you?”

She pulls back, and mouths a breathy, “Yes, Ben,” against the head of cock, and his vision—his entire _world_ goes white before splintering in a guttural groan. He is making a mess of her lips, of her face, and then the inside of her mouth, her throat, all of it painted with his come and it’s not enough. It’s not _nearly_ enough.

“Happy birthday.” Rey grins at him while licking her lips. Her hands are moving down to the fastening of her jeans, working quickly on the buttons. “I know this is supposed to be a present for you, but since you’re still hard, do you mind if I suck you off again?” She is babbling happily. Chipper and energized. “I could get myself off so nicely if your cock is my mouth, and Ben—god Ben, I’ve been wanting this so much today, _all day_, and I’ve been half in love with you for so long but it’s never been quite this—”

His head is coated in pleasure and sugar and he’s not quite sure how he finds himself with Rey in his arms, her ass propped on a low shelf, her jeans on the floor as he orders her softly to open up, open up, open _up_ her legs like the good girl she is so he can take a look at her pretty slit and maybe use it for a little while.

“Ben?” She is clutching at his shoulders, trying to hold him closer, and her _eyes_. They’re so opaque. But he can barely think straight through the heat running down his spine, licking at his nerve endings.

“Good girls don’t need to get themselves off,” he whispers in her ear. She smells so good, so sweet. Like chocolate. Like those soft, delicate little noises she makes when she arches and tries to grind herself against him. “Good girls get their little cunts licked and fucked just the way they like.”

A whimper. “Ben.”

“And then they get to come.”

They way she grabs at him with her thighs and nails, it’s making him crazy. And then, once he’s deep inside and the fluttering of her cunt has finally adjusted around the size of his cock, it’s the way she kisses him—long, sloppy, open-mouthed—that drives him _insane_. The way she squirms when he circles his thumb around her clit, puffy and swollen and so wet his fingers can’t quite find their rhythm.

“You taste like chocolate,” she tells him with a breathless smile, and he would love to answer her that no, no, it’s Rey who tastes like the sweetest fruit on this stupid Earth, but they’re laughing in each other’s mouths, and Ben is telling her how much he’s loved her and for exactly how long, he is telling her about his dreams of filth and tenderness, he is telling her things he didn’t quite know himself; and when the pleasure washes through them like an ocean wave, they both let themselves go under without even gasping for air.

…

Ben has no idea what it is about him that says “I don’t mind walking into my very own office and finding people sitting at my chair,” but it’s definitely something he is going to need to work on. Not today, though. Today he woke up with Rey draped all over him, and dropped her off at her apartment with many kisses and several hickeys and a few bruises on her hips—not to mention the extracted promise that she’ll come over again tonight. Today is the best day of his life, right after the best night of his life, so he’s just going to politely invite Poe to peace out, instead of punching him into the ground.

“Get the fuck off my chair,” he says, not nearly cutting enough. He blames Rey’s sweetness. He can still taste her in his mouth.

“So, how was the chocolate?”

Ben pauses. And scowls. “What?”

“The chocolate.”

“Why?”

“Just asking.” Poe shrugs, a shit-eating smile on his lips. “I like to check up on how my birthday presents are received.”

“Oh.” Ben cocks his head. “You sent it?”

“Yep.” Poe stands from the chair, walking leisurely to the door. Ben follows him with his gaze. 

“You don't give me presents, Poe.” 

“Well, that wasn’t just a present for _you_,” he says, a touch too cryptically for Ben’s taste. “And it’s always nice to start new traditions.”

Ben doesn’t follow. But he also can’t figure out what Poe might want. “Well, if you plan to do it again next year, just an FYI: I don’t like chocolate.”

He can see the curve of his smile right before he steps outside. “I bet you liked this one, though.”

It bothers him a lot, to realize that Poe is right.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: In the fic, Rey and Ben eat (?) aphrodisiacs without their knowledge. It leads to them having sex, which is something they very much have been wanting for a long time, but keep in mind that they are somewhat intoxicated while they do it, and that they're not aware that they have been drugged.  
  
[Check out this fantastic moodboard KyloTrashForever made for the fic 😭](https://twitter.com/EverSoAli/status/1181330701402198017)


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